The Crime Master

CHAPTER X DEATH FROM THE DARK

EAGLE TABRICK laughed.

“Ten o’clock.” The big shot’s statement was disdainful. “That’s the time he gave me, Pigeon. You heard?”

“Sure.” The lieutenant nodded. “I knew he was stalling you, Eagle. Only thing bothered me was why you didn’t hand me the signal quicker.”

“I wanted him to spill something,” growled Eagle. “He did, all right. Say — if that dope of his was straight, we’ve got until Tuesday night to beat The Crime Master to a big job. What do you think of it, Pigeon?”

“Sounds good.” The came doubt in Pigeon’s tone. “Just the same, Eagle, you can’t be taking no long chances with The Crime Master.”

“You’re buffaloed, too eh?” quizzed Eagle, with a snarl. “Say — maybe this hokum of Talker’s had something to it. How about it — suppose I was blotted out. Would you join up with the Crime Master?”

“How do I know?” Pigeon shrugged his shoulders. “You ain’t been put on the spot, have you? Anyway — I just croaked Talker Grube for you. That shows how I stand.”

“What about the others?”

“They’re hiding out, ain’t they? That shows they’re with you. Why get goofy, Eagle? We’re all with you. I’ve been hiding up here, haven’t I? What more do you want?”

“You’re right, Pigeon. I’ve got nothing to squawk about. If somebody should get me, things would be different, of course. But until then, I can rely on your mob and the others. Nobody’s going to get me, though. I’ve shown what I think of The Crime Master’s bluff.”

Eagle chuckled as he finished his decisive statement. He glanced at the envelope that he still held in his hand. His ugly smile flickered anew.

“Talker turned out to be a sap,” he asserted. “Handed me my instructions. Right from headquarters. Let’s see what The Crime Master has to say.”

Ripping open the envelope, Eagle drew forth a folded sheet of thick paper. He spread it. His eyes took on a puzzled stare. Pigeon looked over his chief’s shoulder. He saw the reason for Eagle’s surprise.

The sheet of paper was absolutely blank!

“WHAT do you make of it, Eagle?” came Pigeon’s question.

Tabrick tossed paper and envelope upon the table. He turned to make reply.

“It looks like The Crime Master figured what might happen,” he said, seriously. “Talker was to come again to-morrow. Like as not, he would have brought a new envelope — with a real message — and asked for this one back.

“I don’t like it, Pigeon. It’s a funny kind of bluff. If there was a phony message on that paper, it wouldn’t be so bad. But a blank—”

“Why does that worry you?” questioned Pigeon. “It looks kind of dumb to me. Like the guy didn’t know nothing.”

“You’re wrong.” Eagle spoke with assurance. “Figure it this way, Pigeon. Nobody could tell who sent this blank sheet of paper. That’s why I don’t like the look of it. Suppose somebody should plug me — suppose the bulls should find this dead-head envelope. What would it mean to them? Nothing.”

“I get you,” nodded Pigeon. “It’s a bluff that can’t come back on the guy who pulled it.”

Eagle responded with a nod of his own. His tone became more serious than before.

“It’s after ten o’clock,” he mused, aloud. “We didn’t give Talker a chance to put that call through. We’ve got to work from under cover, Pigeon. If The Crime Master means business, he’ll be out to get me.

“Talker wasn’t stalling when he told me about that swag up at the importing company. That’s what The Crime Master’s after, sure enough. He pulled a good job at the Titan Trust; but he’ll be cagey about using his regular workers too soon after that.

“There’s the lay, Pigeon. Talker talked too much. The Crime Master needs my outfits. He figures that with six new mobs, another robbery would be a cinch. Well” — Eagle paused confidently — “my crews are going to pull that job. But it won’t be for The Crime Master. It’ll be for me — before Tuesday night—”

Eagle was standing in the center of the rooms. His profile showed clearly to The Shadow, as the hidden watcher clung beside the window. Pigeon Melgin was standing directly in front of Eagle when the interruption came.

A sizzing whistle whined inward from the window. Something, traveling at high speed, plastered itself against the side of Eagle’s face. The big shot staggered; something exploded with a puff; Eagle’s head was smothered in a blanketing cloud of greenish vapor that dispelled like the spray from an atomizer.

A snarl ended in convulsive chokes as Eagle Tabrick slumped to the floor. Hands clawed the carpet; the sprawling figure writhed, then lay still. Death had struck from the dark.

There was an instant’s pause on the part of Pigeon Melgin while the lieutenant stood horrified at the fate which had come to his chief. Then, with a venomous oath, Pigeon leaped toward the window, yanking his revolver as he sprang.

Against the glow of the Manhattan sky, Pigeon saw the railed top of the warehouse opposite. Picking that as his objective, he raised his revolver and fired two defiant shots. They found no mark, for Pigeon had no target. But the mobleader, in his mad spring, had placed his own form in open view.

Ssssssssssss!

A second whine came through the outside air. Pigeon stumbled as a projectile smashed against his chest. A puff; the gangleader’s head was enveloped in a noxious cloud of green. Coughing in agony, Pigeon staggered forward. His wild hands clutched the curtain beside the window. It gave. Enveloped in a fold of cloth, the mobleader rolled dead upon the floor.

The fall of the curtain revealed The Shadow. Like a grotesque silhouette, the black-garbed watcher was shown in outline by the new light from the room. He had seen the fate of Eagle Tabrick; he had witnessed the death of Pigeon Melgin. He was open to the same menace that had dropped the evil pair!

THE SHADOW, however, had turned. Swinging toward the warehouse opposite, he poised upon the window ledge. He saw what Pigeon Melgin had failed to find. Rising over the rail on the warehouse roof was the outline of a man’s head and shoulders. Against the whitened surface, The Shadow saw the aiming barrel of a rifle.

A burst of flame came from The Shadow’s automatic. Aimed with quick precision, the bullet did its work. Skimming just above the rail, it found its mark in the shoulder of the snipping killer. The rifle barrel wavered; then came a deep, muffled pop, like the sound of an air-gun.

A whizzing projectile plastered the wall, above and to the right of the window. A puff; greenish gas formed a nebula upon the surface of the bricks. Diving inward, The Shadow escaped the deadly spray. His tall form reached the floor of Eagle Tabrick’s living room. The Shadow swung quickly out of sight along the inner wall.

On the roof opposite, a huddled form was crawling away from the rail. Dragging his powerful air rifle with him, The Crime Master’s henchman was panting as he sought to gain an opening in the roof.

He had fired three grenades from the muzzle of his weapon. Two had delivered death. The third, which he had fired while wounded, was one for which he could not account. Escape had became his one objective.

Amid the shots that had been delivered against the killer — two by Pigeon Melgin, one by The Shadow — the raucous sound of horns and the impatient bursts of motors had formed a symphony from the street below.

A traffic jam, with its attendant noise, had drowned the sounds of shots from above. Yet it was possible that some one had heard at least one of the three reports. Any one other than The Shadow would not have remained in a room where three men lay dead. Yet The Shadow lingered.

The master fighter knew that he had winged the marksman who had sent the gas grenades from the opposite roof. He expected no further menace from that quarter. Moving like a spectral shape, The Shadow reached the spot where Eagle Tabrick lay sprawled upon the floor.

There was no sign of the projectile that had caused the big shot’s death. The Crime Master had plotted well. The projectile, evidently of some thin substance, had been shattered to bits when it had reached the mark. The Shadow knew that the same must be true concerning the grenades which had followed.

The Shadow picked up the telephone. He spoke, in a voice that was strangely like Eagle Tabrick’s. He told the operator to connect him with detective headquarters. Then another voice responded. The Shadow asked to be connected with Inspector Timothy Klein.

“Hello…” The Shadow’s tone was Eagle’s nasty snarl. “Inspector Klein?… Good. This is Tabrick… Eagle Tabrick… Yeah, in my apartment at the Mid Gotham… Listen, inspector, I’ve got a friend here with me… We’ve just handed the bump to Talker Grube… I’m not kidding. It was self-defense. That’s why I’m calling you… Listen, I’m slated for the spot. Talker came here to get me… Yeah, that’s why I can’t scram. I’m counting on you to get some men up here before they blot us out — me and my pal…”

The Shadow’s feigned speech ended. His gloved hand hung up the telephone. A soft laugh came from the lips that were unseen behind the upturned collar of the cloak. The Shadow’s keen eyes spied the envelope that lay on the floor.

Picking up the torn wrapper, The Shadow withdrew the folded paper from within. He produced a pen; in letters, he inscribed this message:

The Shadow folded the note. He replaced it in the envelope and tucked the wrapper under Eagle Tabrick’s arm. The distant siren of a police car was whirring from a block away. The Shadow laughed.

Turning, the black-garbed investigator strode swiftly to the door. He reached the hallway and closed the door behind him. His figure disappeared in the direction of the stairs.

Again, The Shadow had planted a clue at the scene of death. He knew whom this note would reach — Commissioner Ralph Weston. The Shadow also knew that the very vagueness of the note and the circumstances under which it would be discovered would cause the commissioner to preserve secrecy and to act with caution.

The Shadow knew more. He knew that The Crime Master would have no way of learning that Talker Grube had talked too much. He also knew that The Crime Master would believe that the police had found nothing more than a blank sheet of paper in the envelope which Eagle Tabrick held.

This was the cause of The Shadow’s sinister mirth. Crime was set for Tuesday night. The deaths of Talker, Eagle, and Pigeon would not deter it in the least.

The Shadow, through his cunning, had driven a wedge into The Crime Master’s cunning game!